about a year ago we reversed the doorknob on the boys bedroom door so that it locks from the outside. now, before you get to thinking we're some kind of cruel horrible parents or something, we don't lock them in to punish them. mostly we use it to keep them in at night because they like to get up every three seconds otherwise. anyway, today i went to wake up xander from his nap, and ilya followed me in. i didn't notice when ilya shut the door behind me. until later, when i tried to get out.
oh, the stupidity. here i was, stuck in a tiny cubicle of a bedroom (which incidentally reeked of poop from the soiled britches of my diminutive air freshener) with nothing to do but read lame kid books or listen to the awful muzak CD the kids fall asleep to. and then there was the conundrum of how art was going to get inside to free us when he came home--the front door was dead-bolted and all the windows are jammed with 1x2's (i know it seems overly paranoid but what can i say? i have a stalker). plus i have to say i was just not thrilled about sitting there for an hour or two with two screaming kids in a tiny hot-box. ilya found a hair clip, which i snatched out of his hand and pulled apart, but when i attempted to pick the lock the stupid flimsy metal snapped off in my hand. doh! i tried several other objects as lock picks: a screw from the dresser knob, another smaller screw from a latch, a piece of flat plastic...to no avail. then i figured that when art came home he'd have something in his truck i could pick the lock with; we could tear off the screen and he could come in through the window.
then it occurred to me that i could go out the window. and that, coincidentally, the back door was still unlocked since i was waking up xander to bring him outside to play. with glee i tore the screen off the window and crawled out, barefoot and pajama-clad, into the trash-strewn bushes in front of the boys' window. i skipped with delight around to the back of the apartment and came inside, thankful that this one time i hadn't been as paranoid as usual about locking the doors. and also slightly thankful that our complex is full of white-trash so my pj's and barefeet wouldn't call any undue attention.
still, in a situation like that one does wish for the presence of someone as handy as everyone's favorite innovative genius...